


Here We Come A-Caroling

by TexasRevoFan (Lemonsaresweet)



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Caroling, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gift Exchange, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5505281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonsaresweet/pseuds/TexasRevoFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie and Bass are shocked to find each other participating in the church's Christmas caroling event. As they spend the evening together, the spirit of Christmas opens them up to feelings they've been denying for far too long. For thegoodshipcharloe's Christmas fic exchange. One-shot, Blackout universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Come A-Caroling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corycides](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/gifts).



Charlie pulled her coat up to her chin and ducked her head low as she hurried along the street, hoping not to be seen. When she reached the door of the church and stepped inside, she relaxed and a grin spread over her face. Inside, about a dozen people milled about in winter clothes, chatting pleasantly. 

The flyer had appeared on the window of the grocery store last week. “Dec. 20, Christmas Caroling, St. John’s Church – All are welcome.” Normally, Charlie wasn’t much for community involvement, to say the least. She lived on the edge of town, kept to herself for the most part, and liked it that way. But she was also a sucker for Christmas, and for Christmas caroling especially. 

It had really been Maggie who started it, way back in Wisconsin. Charlie’s de facto stepmother had loved to sing, and she loved Christmas. Charlie remembered some of the traditional songs from her childhood. Maggie started belting them out every year once the snow came and didn’t usually stop until well into January. The last few years Charlie had been in Sylvana Estates, the people there had started a tradition of caroling. When Charlie saw the poster, her heart ached for home and those more innocent days, and she decided she wanted to participate.

But that didn’t mean she wanted to be seen. Charlie knew that Miles would mock her endlessly if he knew that she was not only going to a church social, but one that involved singing and merrymaking. She could just picture the smirk on his face. And her mother wouldn’t understand, would probably look at her as if she was wondering how the hell Charlie could be her daughter, as she so often did. 

So Charlie had kept her plans to herself. And fortunately, there was no way in hell anyone from her family would be caught dead anywhere near an event like this, so now that she was inside, she was safe. Or so she thought. 

“Charlie?” said an incredulous voice behind her. 

Oh no. Of all people. She turned around to face the music. 

Bass Monroe was standing there, a smirk playing on his lips. Looking, Charlie noticed, irritatingly handsome in a gray pea coat and red plaid scarf. 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, crossing her arms, trying to cover her embarrassment.

Bass looked around. “Going Christmas caroling, I think. Unless this is the AA meeting and I got confused.” 

“Like you would go to AA,” Charlie muttered. “Since when do you sing?”

Now it was Bass’ turn to look uncomfortable, his master-of-the-universe façade slipping slightly. “I don’t know… My sisters and I were in kids’ choirs way back when. Haven’t done it in awhile, but I saw the poster and it sounded... I don’t know. Nice.” Charlie detected a hint of wistfulness in his voice and immediately understood. After the year they’d had—fighting the Patriots, seeing so many of their brothers in arms die, living out on the road—the idea of doing something as simple and unburdened as Christmas caroling seemed unbelievably appealing. 

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. Guess I thought the same thing.” She scrunched her face up and pointed an accusing finger in Bass’ face, “So no making fun of each other. Okay?” She paused, and added, “And neither of us tells Miles about this. Ever.” 

Bass grinned at that, the rare, heart-breaking grin that Charlie adored. “Agreed. Miles must never know.” Looking Charlie up and down, Bass threw out, “By the way, nice hat.” 

“You just said you wouldn’t make fun of me!” Charlie exclaimed, smacking Bass on the arm. Charlie knew the knit beanie with cartoon reindeer and a huge pom-pom on it was ridiculous, but she’d seen it at the store a few days ago and couldn’t resist. If she was going full-on Christmas cheese, she might as well embrace it, she figured. 

Bass laughed at her reaction, and to her surprise, so did she. Apparently the light-hearted, festive atmosphere in the room was contagious. Before Charlie could explain the provenance of her weird hat, a gray-haired woman stood up on one of the pews and clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Good evening, everyone, and thank you so much for coming out for our annual night of Christmas caroling!” She went on to explain the route they would be taking and the sequence of songs. They would end the night with refreshments at one of the choir members’ homes. 

When she finished, the group made its way to its first stop. Charlie shivered as they went. It was unusually cold for Texas, which made the atmosphere seem quieter and the stars brighter.

Charlie and Bass walked together, toward the side of the group. Charlie started getting nervous and wondering if this had been a terrible idea. Even though they’d declared a moratorium on mockery, she felt self-conscious at the prospect of singing in front of Bass. Caroling in an anonymous group would have been one thing; with Bass right there, it was entirely another. Charlie strategically positioned herself slightly in front of Bass so that he wouldn’t be able to hear her as easily. 

The first homeowner opened her door, and the group leader called out, “Joy to the World!” The person with the pitch pipe blew a note, and they began. Charlie couldn’t help but smile as she sang the familiar words in her soft alto. Sure, it was corny, but that was the whole point. 

Charlie listened for Bass’ voice, and felt something squeeze low in her stomach when she picked it out from the chorus. He sounded amazing. His rich, raspy voice that had sent shivers down her spine more than once was even more beautiful in song. He didn’t sing loudly, but once she heard him, it was like everyone else’s voice faded away. 

When the song ended, Charlie turned to look at him in astonishment. Bass noticed and shrugged his shoulders slightly. “What?” he asked. Charlie gave him a look that said without words: “You know what.” He said quietly, “I told you I used to sing…” Before she could respond, it was time to sing “Jingle Bells.” 

The caroling group moved through the next few houses. Charlie was enjoying herself, loosening up and laughing along with the people joking around and at some of the more egregious singing errors. Bass, too, was surprisingly relaxed and happy, chatting with people near them and adding little flourishes onto his singing, doing it even more once he noticed Charlie rolling her eyes at him. 

It really was cold, and Charlie couldn’t help almost constantly shivering and rocking back and forth on her heels, her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets. Finally, in the middle of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” she felt something soft and warm land on her neck. Bass had taken off his scarf and put it on her. Charlie looked over at him questioningly, but he just nodded at her and kept singing. She smiled her thanks and wrapped it around her neck twice, tucking it into the front of her coat. 

Charlie felt instantly warmer, and she wasn’t sure it was entirely the effect of the scarf itself. The cloth smelled like Bass – like whatever soap he used, and the earthy smell that was just… him. Charlie had to restrain herself from lifting the fabric to her nose to breathe it in more deeply. She concentrated on not showing any reaction, but her entire body felt flushed as a result of being covered in Bass’ scent. 

After an hour or so, just as the group was being overtaken by runny noses and chattering teeth, they reached the last house. As they sang what was to be their final song, Away in a Manger, a few members of the group started putting their arms around each other in quiet communion. It spread through the group, and everyone was forming a chain with the others in their row. The woman next to Bass looped her arm around her husband’s waist, and she held her other arm out to Bass. Bass stepped over, letting the woman pull him in, and he reached out to Charlie. 

Charlie was the end of the row, and she stepped into Bass’ embrace as they sang. He wrapped his arm around her, and Charlie thought how good it felt to be nestled against his side. She rested her head back against his shoulder, which was at the perfect height. They stayed like that, so close that they could feel each other’s breathing, as the group launched seamlessly into an impromptu encore: “Silent Night.” The song was beautiful, and Charlie felt more than heard Bass’ voice as she was pressed against him. She felt a deep contentment spreading through her that she hadn’t felt in longer than she could remember. 

All too soon, the song ended. The group stood in silence for a few moments, letting the final note ring out through the night, and slowly people started to move inside. Bass and Charlie were among the last people to let go of each other. Before he released her, Bass squeezed Charlie into a tight one-armed hug. She thought he might have kissed the side of her head, but through her thick hat it was hard to tell. When she looked up at him after it happened, he didn’t meet her eyes. 

The house that was hosting the party was beautifully decorated for the holidays. Not many people had traditional Christmas trees, since they didn’t grow in the piney woods of Texas, but this person had somehow found an artificial tree to put up, which was covered in paper ornaments. A large fire was roaring in the fireplace, warming the house such that people immediately started peeling off coats, gloves, and hats. 

Charlie pulled off her hat and ran her fingers through her loose tumble of hair a few times. As she did, she noticed Bass’ eyes on her, his gaze hot and hungry. It was a look from him that she’d gotten good at pretending she didn’t notice, even as her body reacted with desire. Charlie shrugged her coat off and unwrapped Bass’ scarf. But instead of taking it all the way off, she let it hang loose, draped over her neck, figuring it matched fine with her cream-colored sweater. Bass was still watching her, and when he saw that she was leaving his scarf on, his jaw tightened and Charlie saw something raw flash in his eyes. 

Sure enough, Bass moved closer to her. “Looks good on you,” he said, fingering the red and green plaid material, his fingers brushing between the scarf and the sensitive skin of her throat. 

Charlie’s breath caught, and she said softly, “Thanks.” 

Nodding over to the corner where the bar was set up, Bass said, “I’ll get us drinks,” and headed over, leaving Charlie alone. She toyed with the ends of the scarf and tried to stop herself from over-analyzing whatever was brewing between her and Bass. 

He brought back mugs of mulled wine, and they settled into easy conversation about everyday things. As they talked, Charlie realized this was the first time she and Bass had spent time together in a social setting that didn’t include Miles, a seedy bar, or both. She felt like she was seeing a new side of him. He was less sarcastic than usual, refraining from his usual snide comments about everything in the room. He wasn’t even cursing as much. Miles was always whining that Bass was a bad influence on him, but Charlie began to wonder if it wasn’t the other way around. 

Truthfully, Charlie was finding Bass really charming as he told her stories about his childhood Christmases and asked about hers. She had known in theory that Bass could win people over if he wanted to; after all, he’d somehow become the leader of an entire nation. But Charlie didn’t see it in action much. Most of the time they spent together, they were busy killing people, and if not that, Bass was bickering with her mom or Miles, or they were drinking their troubles away. 

Here, relatively sober, in this festive setting, surrounded by nice, ordinary, churchgoing people, Charlie was getting a glimpse of another kind of life. A life where she and Bass went to holiday parties together and talked and quietly flirted. Where he put his scarf around her neck because she was cold, and she left it there to show she appreciated it. Where all the reasons they shouldn’t be together, which she had to remind herself of more and more often lately, suddenly seemed to fade into complete unimportance. 

At one point, Charlie looked down at her mug and saw it was empty. “I’m gonna grab another drink,” she said, tilting her head back toward the bar. 

“I’ll come with you,” Bass said, stepping in behind her. They made their way through the room. Charlie set their cups on the table and filled them up with another round of mulled wine. She was just putting the ladle back in the pot, when a sly voice behind them said, “Better not linger here too long, you two!” Charlie turned to see a short, white-bearded man grinning and pointing at the ceiling. He reached around them, grabbed a spare mug, and walked off. 

Both she and Bass looked up. Hanging above the drink station was a green sprig of mistletoe, tied in a red ribbon. Charlie’s breath hitched when she spotted it. She met Bass’ eyes, knowing her hesitant smile matched his own.

“I think we have to kiss now,” Bass said, mock-regretfully, stepping closer to Charlie. 

“Is that so?” she asked, not moving away. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Or it’s seven years’ bad luck.” 

Charlie gave a full-on grin at that. “Pretty sure that’s breaking a mirror.” 

“Mmm, no, I don’t think so,” Bass said, reaching for Charlie. He grasped the ends of the scarf and tugged her into him until their bodies were flush. Charlie was forced to tilt her head back to keep her eyes on his face. Slowly, he ran his hands down the scarf and moved them to her waist, wrapping his arms around her slender frame. Instinctively, Charlie rested her hands on his shoulders in response, feeling his strength there. 

For a second or two, Bass just looked at Charlie, seemingly giving her a moment to catch up to what was going on. When she didn’t punch him or try to get away, he lowered his lips to hers. Softly, gently he kissed her, then pulled away almost before it started. 

Without thinking about it, Charlie raised herself up on her toes slightly and pulled his mouth back down to hers. She wrapped her arms around Bass’ neck and kissed him fervently, begging him for more. He opened to her, and she slipped her tongue inside his mouth, tasting him. Bass responded with a low growl, hitching her even closer to him still so that one of his legs was between hers, and Charlie could clearly feel the effect their kiss was having on them as his hardness pressed into her stomach. 

They broke apart, finally, and Bass released Charlie, who took a half step back. They both looked around guiltily at the other people in the room, but no one appeared to have noticed their passionate display. 

Bass turned back to Charlie. “Do you want to get out of here? Cause I really fucking do.” 

Charlie laughed. There was the Bass she knew and loved. Wait… she shook her head of that thought, and answered him. “Yeah. Me too.” 

They gathered their coats and things and politely bade their hosts goodbye, trying not to be too obvious. They made it just a few houses down before Bass pulled Charlie into the shadows of an alley, where they were shielded from the road by a thick tree. He pulled her roughly against him and kissed her eagerly, almost hurriedly. 

Charlie understood exactly how he felt. It was like they needed to touch each other, taste each other, have as much of each other as possible before this golden halo around them of—whatever, Christmas spirit maybe—dissipated. Before they had to go back to being Bass and Charlie and remembering all the reasons that they were supposed to hate each other. Remembering all the reasons they shouldn’t do this. So Charlie kissed him back, curling her fingers in his hair, relishing the press of his strong body against hers. 

Bass ran one hand from the small of her back around to the front of her jeans. He unbuttoned her pants and thrust his hand inside. His fingers found her wet for him, and Charlie gasped with pleasure, bowing her head into his shoulder. He rubbed along her slit then dipped one large finger inside her opening. Charlie cried out hoarsely, grinding down on him, begging for more. 

“Charlie,” Bass groaned against her neck, then set to kissing and biting at her, hard enough to leave marks. Charlie reacted with a shocked gasp that was not quite a protest. “Wanna make you come,” he said roughly, hooking another finger inside her, the pressure ratcheting up, pushing her closer to her climax. Charlie felt his hardness against her leg and ran one hand over his erection through his jeans. Bass groaned and bucked into her hand, but then Charlie was too overwhelmed with sensation to do anything but feel. 

The heel of Bass’ hand pressed into her clit as he worked his fingers inside her. His other hand pushed up under her sweater, and he pinched her nipple lightly, then harder, making her cry out and tremble with pleasure. With one last vicious twist of the delicate pink flesh, combined with a hard thrust of his fingers inside her, Bass made Charlie come. She shuddered against him, clasping her arms around his neck for support.

As she came down, Bass pulled his hand out of her pants, and she put herself back together. Since Charlie’s place was so far out of town, they continued toward Bass’, which was only a few minutes’ walk away. Already, the heady fantasy that they were just two normal people who were going to fool around after having a good time at a Christmas party was beginning to fade away. Charlie’s stomach hollowed with disappointment. Maybe this had been a terrible idea. 

As they walked in silence, Bass looked over at Charlie as if making sure she was still there. “What?” she asked.

Bass thought for a second, then explained. “Before the lights went out, there used to be all these Christmas movies where a guy has some crazy dream on Christmas Eve where his life has gone to shit. Then he wakes up on Christmas morning and his life is exactly the same as when he went to bed, and he’s all relieved and it’s a happy ending. I feel like that. Only in my case, the dream is the good part, and my life when I wake up is the depressing part.” 

Charlie knocked her shoulder into his, hoping to snap him out of such melancholy thoughts. “Well, this isn’t a dream. And if your life is depressing, mine’s even worse.” 

“Oh really? Not to start a pity party, but how do you figure?” Bass challenged her. 

“Well first of all, you’re supposed to be dead,” Charlie pointed out. “Doesn’t that give every day new meaning or something like that?” 

“Not exactly.” Bass said. “And what about you? You’ve got your mom, Miles, Aaron who acts like he would adopt you himself if he could. You’ve got a family.” 

“We’re your family, too,” she responded automatically. 

Bass smiled. “I appreciate that,” he replied. “But I’m on borrowed time. Miles has let me know that if I ever touch you, he’ll kill me.” 

“I know,” Charlie said. “I was there, remember? When I freaked everyone out by bringing you back here?” She vividly remembered Miles demanding to know what Bass had done to her, his disbelief as they both assured him that nothing had happened. 

Bass laughed slightly. “Yeah, there was that time. And about a dozen times since. The last one being a few nights ago.” 

“What?” Charlie was shocked. She’d had no idea Bass and Miles ever talked about her. 

“Yeah, after that night the three of us were at the bar late.” Charlie remembered. Bass had made her laugh so hard that night, her face had started to hurt, and he had just kept going, seemingly delighted at her reaction. It had been really fun. But now that Bass mentioned it, she remembered Miles sitting there pensively, watching the two of them. “He came to me the next day and reminded me that I needed to keep the hell away from you. That you’re not for me.” 

Charlie’s temper flared. “Who says Miles get to decide that?” she cried indignantly. She was so sick of how Miles acted like Bass was some horrible disease that everyone needed protecting from.

Bass shrugged. “He’s probably right. Much as I wish it were different.” 

Charlie realized that the conversation she’d been hoping to avoid was now inevitable. She and Bass were never going to just jump into bed together, much as they both might want to, without talking about their history, all the reasons they shouldn’t. So she sighed and said, “Alright. We’re doing this now?” 

Bass looked at her sidelong, not bothering to pretend he didn’t know what she meant. “Think we better. Before we get where we’re going.” Charlie’s core tightened at the reminder of what lay ahead. 

“Okay,” she started. “Miles disapproves. I don’t care. I love him, but I care about you, too. And he’s got no room to talk about relationships people disapprove of.” 

Bass snorted at that, and agreed, “I don’t care about Miles, not really. But I do care about you. I’m twice your age.” 

“So?” Charlie said. “You understand me better than any guys my age, anyway. What about you? Wouldn’t you rather be with someone more… experienced? Like Duncan or something?” Charlie hated how insecure she sounded. Even knowing objectively that she was attractive to most men, she had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea that Bass could want her the way she wanted him. 

“Charlie, trust me,” Bass said. “There’s no one I want to be with more than you. Hasn’t been for a long time.” 

“So we’re doing this then,” she said tentatively, sensing there was more. 

Bass was silent for a few long moments, the crunching sound of their steps on the road the only sounds in the quiet night. “You wanted to kill me, once.” 

Charlie’s heart dropped in dismay. She’d been hoping Bass wouldn’t go down this path. That he would just leave it in the past, unspoken. But apparently not. 

“I hated you, once,” she confirmed. “You know why.” 

“I’m still that man,” Bass reminded her. “Whatever’s happened between us since then, I don’t want you to forget that. Or pretend to forget it, then have regrets later.” 

Charlie thought of all the misery she had blamed Bass for at one time or another. Her dad. Danny. Her brand. Her mom. All the dead Rebels. Nora. She glanced at Bass, the wariness and distrust of him that she kept mostly at bay beginning to bubble to the surface. Charlie tamped it down, as she always did, by juxtaposing the acts of General Monroe with actually seeing Bass, the man standing before her. The man who had saved her. Trusted her. Fought for her.

Charlie thought for a few seconds about how to put what she was feeling into words. “I haven’t forgotten. I stopped trying to forget, because it wasn’t working. I know exactly who you are. I don’t forget. But I can forgive you.” 

By now, they were at Bass’ house. They paused at the bottom of the steps leading to his front door. “And still want this? Me?” Bass asked, pulling her to face him. Before she could speak, he warned her, “If you say yes to me now, Charlie, I can’t… I won’t be able to go back. To not having you. So be sure.” 

Charlie saw in his eyes what his words were costing him, to not just fuck her and damn the consequences. She stepped close to him and ran her hands up his chest, palming his jawline and finally meeting his eyes. “I’m sure,” she whispered, and immediately Bass reached up and tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her against him and kissing her hard. 

Charlie wasn’t sure who dragged whom up the stairs and inside, but within seconds, they were in Bass’ living room, coats off, kissing each other desperately. Eventually, Bass turned her so her back was toward him and pushed her toward the couch. Quickly, Charlie unfastened her jeans and pushed them down her thighs, pulling her feet out of her boots and stepping out of everything, so she stood in front of Bass clad only in her sweater and a small pair of red panties. 

“Goddamn,” Bass growled when he saw them. He ran his hand over her ass and between her legs, pressing into her clit through the fabric. Charlie arched her back into him and whipped her sweater off over her head and quickly undid her bra. Bass reached up to cup her breasts in his hands, and she rubbed her ass against his hardness as he pinched and squeezed her nipples. 

“Please,” she breathed, need coiling in her belly. “Bass.” She heard him undo his belt and pants behind her, and she pushed her panties down, letting them fall to the floor. Naked, she climbed up on Bass’ couch, kneeling on the cushion, grasping the back for support. Charlie spread her legs wantonly and twisted slightly to look back at Bass. 

With one hand, he grasped her hip, and Charlie felt the blunt, hot tip of his cock teasing her folds. She nearly collapsed at the sensation of so much male hardness so close but not quite where she needed him. Her hands gripped the couch in a bid for patience, the tendons standing out with tension. 

Then in one smooth, hard stroke, Bass thrust into her at last, groaning his satisfaction. Charlie’s body adjusted to the welcome invasion, and she pushed back into him as he thrust into her steadily but deliberately, in no hurry. She wanted more, faster. Reaching her arm up, Charlie grasped the back of his neck, digging her nails into his flesh, begging him for more. 

“Fuck,” Bass swore, pounding into her harder. “That what you want? Need me deeper?” Charlie bit her lip against a loud groan as Bass buried his cock in her again and again. She tilted her hips, slightly changing the angle, and suddenly it was right, it was perfect, and she felt herself clenching helplessly around him as she flew over the edge again, her arms weakening under her as her body fluttered into boneless satisfaction. 

Bass gathered her in his arms, holding her flush against his body as he worked his hard cock into her now-drenched pussy. “Gonna come,” he warned her with a grunt, and Charlie knew she should push him off her, just as he knew he should go, but neither of them could quite muster the will. Instead, with a last, determined thrust, Bass came still buried deep, his cock spurting thick and hot inside her, and Charlie shuddered with pleasure at feeling his release. 

Bass sat down heavily and pulled Charlie into his lap, then laid them both down on the couch. They lay together for a few minutes, feeling each other’s breaths and caressing each other slowly. They were about to fall asleep, when Charlie noticed a black sock nailed to the mantle over Bass’ fireplace. 

“What is that?” she said, pointing, eyebrow raised in inquiry. 

Bass followed her gesture, then looked somewhat embarrassed. “It’s a stocking,” he admitted. At her blank expression, he elaborated, “People used to hang them up at Christmas. Santa would fill them up with little presents…” Charlie’s memory flashed with a vague recollection of a big, red, crescent-shaped piece of felt with a picture of a snowman on it, from before the Blackout. Bass continued, “Anyway, it was always my favorite thing to open as a kid, and I got the idea and thought what the hell. It’s stupid, but it reminds me of better times. And it’s my house,” he added defensively. 

Charlie looked at the wrinkled, limp piece of fabric with new eyes, and her heart broke just a little bit for Bass. Here in his home, all alone, he was trying to recreate something that had once made him happy. Overcome with emotion, Charlie pulled him into her and kissed him hard, hoping to convey with her actions how she cared about him, about his happiness.

When they parted, Bass gave a self-deprecating smile. “If I’d known that pathetically hanging my laundry on my fireplace would get that reaction, I’d have done it ages ago.” 

Charlie just rolled her eyes with a smile and laid back down next to him, gazing at the hot embers Bass had left burning in the fireplace. Their warmth, and his, eventually lulled her to sleep. 

* * *

Charlie stayed with Bass every night after that. They had been denying their feelings and attraction for so long that once it was out in the open, neither of them wanted to waste a single opportunity to be together. After Charlie finished work for the day, she would come by the bar while he finished up his shift. Then, without either of them talking about it, she would walk home with him, where their passion would explode as it had their first night together. Bass took her against the front door, on his kitchen table, and, finally, in his bed. 

On Christmas Eve, Charlie came by the bar as usual. “I told Miles and my mom I’d stay at their place tonight,” she told Bass. “Mom wants to do the whole, Christmas morning breakfast and opening presents from Santa thing. Apparently it’s a Matheson family tradition.” 

Bass shrugged, “No problem. Have fun.” She could hear a slight scrape of regret and loneliness in his voice. If she hadn’t already been planning to invite him, that would have done it. 

“You should come over tomorrow,” she suggested, and Bass met her eyes warily, cautious of any pity-invite, ready to decline. “I want you to,” she hurried to add. “Really.” 

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m not bringing a present for Rachel.” 

Charlie laughed. “I think she’d die of shock if you did, so that’s probably for the best.” Standing up, Charlie said, “I should probably get over there so I can tuck myself into bed before Santa comes.” 

Crooking a finger at her, Bass gestured for her to come closer. Charlie obliged, and he pulled her in for a heated kiss across the bar. Charlie’s hands grasped his biceps as his tongue delved into her mouth. Despite the awkward position, Charlie felt her desire for him rising, and her resolve to leave weakening. 

Bass’ thoughts were apparently along the same lines. When they parted, he breathed against her lips, “Sure you have to go?” 

“Have to,” Charlie insisted. “See you in the morning.”

Little did Bass know that she wasn’t actually in a hurry to get to her folks’ house. She had other plans first, and a smile lit her face as she made a detour to Bass’ place first. 

It was easy enough to jimmy the lock, and once inside, Charlie got to work. She tugged slightly on the sock hung on the mantle to test its security, then carefully filled it with the small gifts she had gathered over the course of the week. There was nothing too elaborate or fancy: a few candies, some cookies, a tattered deck of playing cards, and a small foldable knife. Just something so that Bass would have presents to wake up to. (She was counting on exhaustion and the darkness preventing him from noticing the gifts before morning.) Charlie smiled in excitement as she thought of Bass’ reaction when he woke up and saw what she’d left for him. Hopefully it would make his Christmas morning a happy one.

* * *

The next morning, Charlie was sitting bleary-eyed in the Mathesons’ family room, still clad in the red cloth pants and long-sleeved tee that served as her pajamas. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, and a kettle of boiling water was set above it. Miles had procured some of the higher-quality chicory that was available in town as a substitute for coffee. To Charlie, it tasted like life itself as she drank it, trying to wake up. Her mother had started clattering around downstairs just after sunrise, making a breakfast of fried eggs and bacon. 

Now they were positioned around the tree, about to open their gifts to each other. Aaron and Priscilla had just arrived and were warming themselves from the morning chill while Rachel put the finishing touches on everything. 

A knock on the door sent a thrill through Charlie’s body. Miles opened the door, and sure, enough, it was Bass. 

“Bass!” Miles exclaimed in surprise. “What, uh… What are you doing here?” He had to realize how bad that sounded, so he stepped aside and lamely offered, “Come on in. Merry Christmas.” 

Charlie stayed seated where she was on the couch, but smiled at Bass across the room. They hadn’t really talked about how to act in front of her family, so she thought to let him take the lead. 

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” Bass said, stepping around Miles and walking over to Charlie. “I’m here because it turns out Santa visited me last night. And I wanted to come thank her in person.” Stopping in front of Charlie, he addressed her, “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” 

“I know,” she said, smiling smugly. “But stockings are the best part of Christmas, right?” She raised her mug and took a drink to fight off the full-on grin threatening to spread over her face. When she put it down, Bass caught her hand and pulled her to her feet. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, joy shining in his eyes. “It’s been… a really long time. Since anyone did that for me.” Then he bent his head and, in front of everyone, kissed her softly. 

“What the HELL?” Miles shouted, just as Aaron exclaimed, “Finally!” Charlie stepped away from Bass. Time to face the music. 

“Uh, is anyone going to answer me? What the hell? And, what do you mean, ‘finally’?” Miles demanded, turning to Aaron. “You’re happy about this?” 

Aaron stammered, “I mean, no, not exactly, but come on.” He waved his hand between the two of them, “It’s been pretty obvious for awhile, right? And, notwithstanding the whole ‘scary as hell murdering former dictator’ thing… she could do worse.” 

Bass snorted. “Thanks, Aaron.” 

Aaron’s mouth dropped open. “Wow, you didn’t call me Staypuft. It’s a Christmas miracle.” 

Ignoring that, Bass turned toward Miles, who had been stunned into silence. “Miles…” he started. “I hope you can be okay with this.” He put his arm around Charlie’s waist. 

“Oh, hell,” Miles said. “So my repeated death threats didn’t work, I guess.” 

“Not anymore, brother,” Bass said. “Can’t stay away from her any longer. Kill me if you have to.” Miles looked like he was considering it.

“Don’t,” Charlie said to Miles, stepping in front of Bass. “I kinda like him. And I’ve saved his ass too many times for you to just kill him now anyway.” 

Disgusted, Miles just shook his head. “Merry fucking Christmas,” he muttered. And, “Screw this chicory shit. Has anyone seen the whiskey?” 

As Miles dug through the cabinet looking for a bottle, Bass handed Charlie something in a small paper bag. At her curious look, he explained, “It’s nothing much, I got it before we… anyway, I saw it and I thought of you.” 

Charlie shook the contents of the bag out, and a small, thin book dropped into her hand. The title was “Texas Vistas.” She flipped through it eagerly and realized that it was a book of postcards, photographs of beautiful scenes from various places in Texas: the mountains of El Paso, the green of the Hill Country, the great Rio Grande river. It was in near-pristine condition, nothing like the dusty, wrinkled postcards she had collected as a girl. Charlie couldn’t remember ever mentioning her collection to Bass, but she realized she must have at some point. 

“This is amazing,” she said, unable to take her eyes off the vivid pictures. “They’re beautiful. I love it.” She finally raised her eyes to Bass’ face. He looked incredibly proud of himself, and she threw her arms around his shoulders to hug him. “Thank you,” she said. 

Holding her in his embrace, Bass murmured in her ear so only she could hear. “Those aren’t just pretty pictures, Charlotte. They’re a promise. I’ll take you to see every one of those places, if you want to go. Just you and me.” 

Pulling back from him, Charlie nodded, tears shining in her eyes. “Sounds perfect,” she said. 

_The end._

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Good Ship Charloe’s Christmas Secret Santa exchange, for Corycides. I reread most of her Charloe stories as “research” for this project, and you all should too because they are absolutely gorgeous (especially if you like General Monroe, which, who doesn’t). I loosely used her prompt, “It’s a Matheson family tradition!” Happy holidays to Corycides and all you lovely Revo readers and writers!


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